Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone and the Dark Knight
by A.R. Templar
Summary: After watching the Dursley's get murdered while on a family vacation to the USA, Harry Potter is rescued by a masked vigilante and finds himself taken in as a ward of Bruce Wayne. While the boy is still adjusting to living with the American Billionaire and family, he receives a letter by owl. He's a Wizard. Follow Harry and his new family on an adventure of a lifetime.
1. Prologue

**Forward**

 **Dear Readers, This plot has been taking up the majority of my creative muse the past weeks. I've never tried my hand at crossover fiction before, but I have had fun writing this so far. I haven't been fully pleased with what other Batman/Harry Potter crossovers I read have to offer, so hopefully this one is enjoyable. Please leave feed back as to whether or not you would like to see more of this story. I have the first few chapters ready if there is an audience.**

 **A.R. Templar.**

Prologue

30th December, 1990

Vernon Dursley glared angrily at the vehicle in front of him, the damn yank cut him off, nearly hitting him, then slammed on his breaks at a red light. If this was any sign as to how the family holiday would play out, he thought they should have stayed in England.

Vernon had been given a free family holiday in America, as a Christmas bonus from his boss at Grunnings. Having never been to America, he thought this would be a fine get-away for his family. But then, they had been unable to find a sitter for the boy, forcing them to bring him along, then their flight plan had been changed, meaning they would fly into Gotham International Airport at eleven at night, then take a rental up to their vacation resort. After only driving for ten minutes in the busy, American city traffic, Vernon Dursley was disgruntled to say the least. Then he had taken a wrong exit somewhere and they found themselves in the slums of Gotham. The traffic was lessened, and the snow had stopped, but now he had to contend with homeless bums, garbage, and abandoned vehicles.

"Dad, I'm hungry," Dudley whined.

"Oh, Dudders, we'll get some food shortly," Petunia cooed from the shotgun seat.

"I want food NOW," the fat eleven-year-old screamed the last word.

"Just be pati–blast it all!" Vernon slammed on the breaks as the light changed from green to red, barely flashing yellow, "this cursed, American traffic will be the death of– what the devil?"

A group of men converged around the car, one tapped on the driver's window.

Vernon slowly cracked it enough that he could speak to the tramp, "what do you want?" he demanded.

"Hey now, Govena," the man said, obviously making fun of Vernon's English accent, "my buddies & I are needin' some cash."

"You're out of your bloody mind if you think I'm going to give you any money."

"Let me make myself clearer," the man produced pistol, "I'm not askin' for money, I'm demandin'."

"You dare to threaten me? You filthy, no good–"

BANG!

Vernon was cut off as the bullet went through the window and into his face.

"Aaeeii!" Petunia shrieked her hands raising up to her face.

The thug outside, broke the shattered window and opened the door. The other men forced entry into the other side and pulled Petunia, Dudley, and Harry out of the car along with Vernon's corpse.

"All right, Lady, give us the dough."

Petunia was in hysterics, unable to reply. Dudley was frightened out of his wits and took off running from the murderous thieves.

BANG!

The fat boy fell to the sidewalk.

"NO!" Petunia raced to her lifeless son, wailing as she ran.

BANG!

Her body joined Dudley's on the snow-covered pavement.

Harry stood shaking, as he watched the thugs tear the car apart searching for valuables. One man walked over to where Aunt Petunia's body lay and stripped it of any jewelry. Another had taken Uncle Vernon's watch and wallet. The ten-year old hoped that if he stood still these men would forget about him like the Dursley's always did. It almost worked until he sneezed and drew their attention.

"What about the kid?"

"What about him? Might as well kill him like the rest of 'em."

"Fair 'nough–AAHHH!"

The man screamed as he was pulled into the air as if by magic. Two more fell to the ground as shots rang out. The remaining three all looked up with an expression of terror. Someone, or something jumped on top of the car, flipped into the group of men and began fighting. In what seemed like merely half a minute, the thugs all lay on the ground unmoving.

Harry watched as the figure handcuffed each of the living criminals to the wheels of the car, checked on Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley only to confirm they were dead. He looked around once more and spotted Harry. Harry finally got a good look at him. He was dressed in a leather jacket, black pants, and a grey Kevlar shirt with a red bat across the chest. On his belt he wore two visible guns, and a large knife, but that wasn't what caught Harry's attention. No, Harry's eyes were drawn to the red helmet he wore on his head, which concealed his face.

"Are you okay, kid?"

Harry nodded.

"Were they your family?"

He gave another silent affirmative, he couldn't seem to find his voice.

"Okay, kid, you're probably in shock, can't say I blame you, we need to get you looked at to make sure you're good to go, okay?"

Once more a nod.

The helmeted figure walked over to him, and wrapped an arm around his slim body, "Hold on to me kid, and I'll get you out of here," with that, he shot a grapple onto a roof and pulled Harry along with him.

Harry and the helmeted hero swung onto a roof next to a spotlight, "Red Hood to the cave," he said to no one. Harry guessed he must have an ear piece like in the movies.

"Oh, come on, asshole, answer you damn com…Hey! Yeah, I have a situation here...It wasn't too big, just an armed robbery/homicide…Four victims total, three dead, one alive…does it matter how many of _them_ are alive?...no he's healthy…he's a kid, younger than your Demon Spawn…he's with me, we're by the signal…why else do you think I called? I can't really have a kid following me around Gotham…Okay, I'll leave him here."

Red Hood turned around to face Harry, "Okay, Bud, here's the deal. I need to get the hell out of here, but there's a guy coming up, he's the Police commissioner, he's going to take you inside and take care of you okay?"

Harry nodded again.

"Alright, kid, don't go anywhere." With that, Red Hood ran to the edge of the roof and leaped to the next building, disappearing into the snowy night.

Moments later a hatch opened on the roof and a man stepped out into the cold night air. He was wearing a sportscoat & tie, he had a moustache and glasses, with a serious but friendly face.

"Come here, son, everything's all right."

Harry walked to him, shivering from standing out on the roof and from the adrenaline wearing off. The Commissioner led him down through the halls to a room where he sat Harry down and put a coat around him.

"Can you tell me your name, son?"

"H-Harry Potter," Harry finally found his voice for the first time since the crime.

"Alright, Harry, you're not hurt?"

"No, Sir."

"How old are you?"

"I'm ten-years-old."

"Are you thirsty, hungry?"

"Thirsty."

"Would you like some water or some hot chocolate?"

"Hot Chocolate, please."

He looked up at someone standing in the room who immediately walked out.

"Harry, while Officer Perkins is getting your cocoa, can you tell me what happened tonight?"

"I was in the car with my aunt and uncle. We were going on a holiday to Lake Jefferson, but my uncle took the wrong exit. We stopped, and some men came up to the car, they told my uncle they wanted money, then they shot him. My cousin, Dudley, tried to run away but they shot him too, then my aunt."

"But they didn't shoot you, you're positive?"

Harry nodded, "They were going to, but the Red Hood attacked them."

"Red Hood? And did the Red Hood bring you here?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Are you positive it was Red Hood, not Red Robin?"

"He said his name was Red Hood."

Officer Perkins came in with a Styrofoam cup of Hot Chocolate.

"Ah, here you go, Harry, some nice hot chocolate," Commissioner Gordon said handing it to the boy, "Harry, can you please tell me your aunt and uncle's names?"

"Vernon and Petunia Dursley."

"And your cousin's name was Dudley?"

"Yes."

"Where are you from, son?"

"Surrey, England."

"Do you have any other family, Harry?"

He shook his head no.

"How about any friends here in the U.S.?"

"None."

"Okay, Harry, I'm going to go put everything you told me on the computer. While I'm doing that, you just sit here and drink your coco. If you need anything, just ask Officer Perkins, he'll help you any way he can."

"Commissioner."

"Batman, I have the details on the kid. First off, I found this strange, he said the Red Hood dropped him off. I know you said he's reforming, but it still seems out of character, he's a wanted criminal if at least three countries."

"What else?" The Batman ignored, Gordon's comment about The Hood

"His name's Harry James Potter, he's an orphan from the U.K. He came over here on vacation with his aunt, uncle, and cousin. From what he told me, they were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. The guys we picked up were all average bums off the street, no allegiance to the Mob or any of the crazies."

"Does he have any family or friends?"

"None, like I said, he's an orphan. From what I can find, his parents were James & Lily Potter, they died in a car crash back in '81. His mom's sister was his only living relative and now she's gone, along with her husband and kid."

"What are you doing with him?"

"The only thing we can do: keep him here at the station until someone from the State can get a hold of somebody in England and figure out what to do with him. He's a British citizen, so it's up to them in the long run."

"Thank you, Commissioner."

"You're welcome, Bats, wish I had better news"

"Master, Bruce, I dare say I've seen that look before," the butler said from behind his shoulder.

Bruce Wayne turned around and faced Alfred, "He's nowhere to go, Alfred, you heard Jim."

"Indeed, sir, but need I remind you that it may be more difficult than before, what with the boy being British and all."

"I understand, Alfred."

"Good then, sir, I must say you need to get to bed. After all, you don't want to meet the boy with bags under your eyes."

"Good night, Alfred."

"Good night, Master Bruce."


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter I

31st July,1991

Harry jumped out of bed as the sunlight lit across his face. He put on his glasses and ran down the stairs to the dining room, still wearing his pajamas. Already sitting at the table, eating breakfast were most of Harry's adopted family. His guardian, Bruce Wayne, sat at the head of the table, already dressed in suit & tie. He drank some coffee as he read the morning's edition of _The Daily Planet._ His older "brothers", Tim Drake and Damian Wayne were both sitting across from each other eating bowls of oatmeal, Tim was drinking coffee, and Damian a cup of orange juice. Tim was messing around with a laptop computer, while Damian would occasionally rub his pet cat between the ears.

"Good morning, Master Harry," Alfred said entering through the kitchen door, "And Happy Birthday, would you like a bowl of oatmeal this morning, or should I make you something else?"

"Good morning, Alfred, oatmeal's fine thank you."

"Happy Birthday, Harry," Bruce said putting down his paper.

"Thanks."

"Happy Birthday, Harry," Tim said, glancing up briefly from his computer.

"Yes, I suppose congratulations are an order, being as you've survived another year," Damian drawled monotonously.

Alfred returned with his breakfast and a glass of orange juice, "You have several cards waiting for you, Master Harry, but may I suggest you refrain from opening them until this evening along with the rest of your gifts?"

"This evening?"

"Dick, Barbara, and maybe Jason said they would try be here to celebrate then, plus I have a meeting with Lexcorp this morning, and those always take long," Bruce answered.

"Todd is coming?" Damian asked.

"Hopefully."

"Not," Tim mumbled under his breath, which Bruce ignored.

"What time will they be here?" asked Harry, excited at the prospect of celebrating with the two oldest of his adopted brothers and the girl who acted as an older sister.

"Around 5:30."

"Okay, I can wait until then."

"Good, until then, you three behave yourselves."

Harry was shooting hoops out back of the manor, with Damian. The older boy was faster, and quite a bit more athletic, not to mention competitive to an extreme, but Harry still managed to do well, throwing the ball through the hoop seemed to come naturally. Damian caught the rebound and paused as he stared at the sky.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"There's a bird flying directly towards us."

"There's nothing odd about that."

"There is if it's a nocturnal species and is caring something."

Harry looked in the same direction as Damian. He didn't see anything at first, but once he caught sight of it, there was no mistaking it. It was an owl, heading their way, with something in its talons.

He reached them quickly, deposited something at Harry's feet, and flew away without breaking its glide.

Damian reached down and grabbed it up before Harry could.

"It's a letter."

"From whom?"

"I don't know, but it's addressed to you."

"To me?"

"See for yourself."

Sure enough, there was his name hand written in green ink calligraphy

 _Harry James Potter_

Turning it over in his hands he saw a crest stamped into the wax seal.

"This looks really important," Harry said.

"It looks conspicuously dubious," Damian replied.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't be a fool, Potter, regular mail, important or un, is not delivered by nocturnal fowl period, especially at high noon."

"What do you think I should do then?"

"Give it to me, I'll put it some place safe until Father gets home, then we'll ask him, but until then I deem it unsafe."

"Don't be ridiculous, Damian, it's just a letter."

"If it were just a letter, it would have been delivered by the postman between 10:28 & 10:43 A.M. This is not that and should be treated as dangerous until proven otherwise."

"You're overreacting–hey give it to me!"

Damian took the letter and ran off towards the manor. Harry gave chase, but the older boy quickly evaded him and disappeared. He returned looking smugger than usual, if that were possible.

As the afternoon progressed, Harry found himself wondering about the strange letter constantly. He spent quite a bit of time searching for where Damian had hidden it. Damian caught him in his room searching for it in his desk, which had led to them in a fight ultimately being broken up by Tim, but only after they had each taken a couple hits, Harry more than Damian. Alfred scolded them, not caring if it was Harry's birthday, and assigned each of them chores to do in separate parts of the mansion until Bruce came home as punishment.

Despite it being a punishment, Harry couldn't help but think about how much more he preferred doing chores here than when he had lived with the Dursleys. Here the chores were because he was in trouble for fighting, most often with Damian, or something else equally punishable, not simply because he was a freak.

That was another thing, no one ever called him a "freak" here. There was one time, just after Bruce had taken custody of Harry, that he had accidently broken an antique vase in the hallway. He was so scared that the Billionaire would be furious at him that he was seriously shaking as the man walked towards him. He saw Bruce's eyes raise in slight surprise, when he turned around he saw that the vase was in one piece and sitting on the stand. Tim muttered, "freaky" under his breath. When Harry heard that, he ran up to his room angry at himself for displaying his freakishness in his new home. He sat in fear of what they would make him do, now that they knew, until Bruce came and nocked on his door and asked what the matter was.

Harry told him how he was a freak, that his aunt and uncle had punished him because of it, and that he was sorry he didn't tell Bruce that before the man adopted him and that he understood if Bruce wanted to punish him too. But Bruce would hear none of it, Harry would never forget how it felt when Bruce hugged him and told him no matter what, he was not a freak. Harry later overheard Bruce retelling everything to Alfred, and the butler saying, "compared to the rest of the family, I'd say Master Harry is the least freakish of the lot." Harry never figured out what he meant by that. He did know that they almost never did anything together after eight o'clock at night. Bruce strictly enforced the bedtime rule, except for rare occasions like when there was a party at the manor.

Harry did admit, the family was slightly dysfunctional. First off that the only person who ever mentioned a mother was Damian, and even that seemed to be a taboo. Secondly, the older boys all seemed to fight with each other quite a bit. Damian was often at the center of the fray, but sometimes it was between the other ones, especially Jason and Tim. Jason was another oddity. He hardly ever came to visit, in the time Harry had lived at Wayne Manor, he visited a total of three times: Harry's adoption, Easter, and briefly on Fathers' Day to give a card to Bruce. On those occasions, he was only nice to Harry, Bruce was often glaring at him, and Alfred constantly reprimanded him for his language. The nicknames the older boys had for each other were strange too. They all called Dick "Bigbird" or "Golden Boy," Jason was "Jaybird," Tim was called "Babybird," or "Replacement" by Jason, and Damian was "Demon Spawn" or "Baby Bat." They had taken to calling Harry "Wingless," whatever that meant.

Despite the quirks, Harry realized that they were a family, more importantly, they were _his_ family, sure he had only been here less than a year, but he already felt more belonging than he ever had with the Dursleys.

"Master Harry, Master Bruce has returned, Master Dick just arrived, Miss Gordon has been here for a few moments, and Master Jason should hopefully be here within the hour. Once you've finished with that mirror, it may be a good time to come to the parlor."

"I'll be right there, Alfred."

Harry finished quickly and ran to the parlor. He slid down the railing on the staircase and dropped directly in front of the doors.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Harry jumped, at the scolding and turned around. Jason was walking through the foyer. The rouge Wayne brother was wearing his leather jacket, combat boots, and cargo pants.

"Jason!" Harry ran a gave his brother a hug, Jason tensed like he did every time Harry showed physical affection.

"Happy B-Day, Kido."

"Thanks for coming, Bruce convinced me to wait to open any presents until you and Dick got here.

"What do you know, Bruce can be considerate after all."

They walked into the parlor together and saw the rest of the family already there. A stack of presents sat on a coffee table in the center of the room, Bruce was talking to Dick, and Barbara with Alfred, Tim was on his computer, and Damian sat on a chat stroking his cat's ears.

"Happy Birthday, Wingless!" Dick said when he saw Harry.

"Thanks Dick.

"Shall we be opening gifts before or after supper, Sir?" Alfred asked Bruce.

Bruce looked at his youngest, "I think Harry's waited long enough, Alfred, let's let him open his gifts now, then we'll eat."

"Alright, Demon Spawn, help bring the gifts over," Dick directed Damian.

"I'm not a servant, Grayson."

"Neither are Alfred or I, so come help."

Damian rolled his eyes as he stalked over to help them.

Harry sat himself down on one of the couches next to Tim who put aside his computer. Dick sat down on his other side as the presents were set before him, Jason stood off in the corner next to Barbara. Damian sat back into his previous chair, and Bruce stood resting his arm on the hearth.

"What are you waiting for? Open them up, Harry," Dick said.

Harry picked up a package and tore into it revealing a book on the history of the British Empire.

"That's from me, Wingless," Tim said, "I read it before I wrapped it, it's pretty interesting."

"Thanks, Tim," Harry enjoyed things that concerned England. He opened another one, this one long and thin, a wooden bokken fell into his lap.

"I decided you're old enough now that you could learn how to use one," Damian said nonchalantly.

Harry smiled at the older boy. He knew Damian took karate and knew how to use these kinds of things, "Will you teach me how to use it?"

"I suppose. It would be a waste if you had one and never learned to use it properly.

Harry opened a bag with Dick's handwriting on the tag. It was a baseball mitt.

"Thanks, Dick."

"I figure it's about time you got officially Americanized and learn to throw a baseball."

"I say so," Jason said from where he stood, "I can't believe they've let you go this long without learning to play catch."

"Like you'd be the one to teach him, Todd," Damian articulated.

"I could do a fair better job at that than you at teaching him to use that sword, Demon Spawn."

"Enough!" Bruce's voice caught the attention of everyone in the room, "Harry, I believe there are a couple more gifts to be unwrapped."

"Oh, right!" Harry proceeded to discover the contents of his remaining presents. Alfred gave him a book on King Arthur. Bruce's gifts consisted of, a remote helicopter drone, and the latest super soaker.

"Wait, Harry gets a super soaker?" Dick exclaimed.

"Can we say newest kid?" Tim grumbled.

"Thank you, Bruce!" Harry smiled at his guardian, he knew Bruce wasn't big on hugs, otherwise he would have hugged him.

"Oi, you got one left, Bucko."

"Plus all the cards!"

Harry picked up a package wrapped in newspaper funnies, two packs of Baseball Trading cards fell out onto his lap.

"Thanks, Jason!"

"Start off your collection, Wingless."

"Another collection of baseball cards in the family?" Alfred said, "do take care not to leave yours lying about, Master Harry, I'm sorry to admit I'm not well kept on which cards belong to which boy."

"I promise, Alfred," Harry gave the butter a reassuring smile. He pulled the stack of cards his way and opened them. One was from Barbara with a movie gift certificate and the promise to take him. One was from the Wayne Enterprises staff, it was generic, but signatures took up the entire card. the last one was from his homeroom teacher.

"Master Bruce, supper is waiting in the kitchen. I prepared Master Harry's favorite: spaghetti and meatballs."

Nearly all the heads in the room picked up at the mention of food. Bruce gazed over the boys before making eye contact with Alfred.

"If I said no, Alfred, there might be a mutiny on our hands."

"Quite right, Sir."

"More like a scene from the French Revolution," Tim muttered under his breath.

Dinner was delicious, per usual, and Alfred outdid himself on the cake. Layers of chocolate cake and icing smothered in a rich frosting. After cake, Dick, Jason, and Barbara all left after wishing Harry happy birthday again. Harry convinced Tim to teach him the ins and outs of baseball card collecting before he went to bed, to which the older boy reluctantly agreed. Bruce stayed in the parlor figuring to read a book for a couple of hours. As he sat down in one of the wingback chairs, he noticed Damian standing in front of him.

"What is it, Damian?"

The young boy extended an envelope.

"What's this?"

"It was delivered to Potter this afternoon…by an owl."

Bruce looked at his son coldly, "I'm not in the mood for games, Damian."

"It's not a jest, Father. It happened while we were playing basketball. A Great-horned owl flew by and dropped this at his feet."

Bruce turned the letter over to see the wax seal on the back.

"Hogwarts. Draco Dormiens Numquam Titillandus; never tickle a sleeping dragon."

"Could it be from the Court?"

"No, this isn't their seal, nor their motto."

"A new threat then?"

"I need to look inside to know for certain. Tell Tim you two have patrol tonight; I need to look into this."

Damian nodded and walked out of the parlor. Bruce followed as far as his study then ducked into a secret passageway. Once in the Batcave, Bruce walked over to a microscope. Nothing appeared on the envelope other than confirm it was made of a parchment rather than paper. Careful not to damage the seal, he opened the letter and produced its contents. Two pieces of parchment fell out. Upon unfolding them, he discovered they were handwritten by quill in green iron gall ink. The script was that of a woman's presumably middle aged, from Europe, if the spelling and grammatical structure was anything to go off.

He read the letter, addressed to Harry by name so that ruled out miss-delivery, not that he thought it was. Bruce reread it four times. Once under ultraviolet light, another under infrared, a third time adjusting the light through the entire light spectrum, and a fourth time under heat; he discovered nothing new under any of these methods. Bruce sighed, his next option was to figure out if the letters content was legitimate or not. He read the heading again: _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._ He needed to know if such a place existed, to find that out, he knew one person to ask.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

7th July, _AD 1991._

Albus Dumbledore sat in his office going over the defenses he and the other professors had devised for the Philosopher's Stone. Tom would come for it, how or when he did not know, but he was sure that he would come for it. He had asked each of the heads of house and his new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor to aid him in the security. Hagrid had volunteered the use of his Cerberus as well. Though unlikely to prevent Lord Voldemort, it would be a good deterrent to any students who stumbled upon him. It was inevitable some miscreant student would feel the need to find out just why the seventh-floor corridor was forbidden this year.

The Headmaster looked up as he heard the gargoyle moving. Moments later, Minerva entered his office.

"Minerva, how can I help you?" the aged wizard asked in his grandfatherly voice.

"I feel inclined to inform you, headmaster, that one of the owls has yet to return after delivering the letters to this year's students."

"I'm sure it will be along shortly."

"The others all arrived two days ago, and this particular one raises some concern."

"Is it an older bird?"

"No. It's not the bird that worries me, Albus, it's the recipient."

"And who might that be, my dear?"

"Harry Potter."

Dumbledore's eyes lit up at this announcement, "Why wouldn't have this owl returned? Surrey should have been an easy journey."

"That's why I informed you, Headmaster."

"Minerva, please ask Hagrid to venture to 4 Privet Drive immediately. I shall consult my instruments and make sure the wards are still in place.

The witch turned and vacated the office, leaving Albus with his thoughts. Upon investigation, he was terrified that the blood wards around the muggles' home had vanished. He decided then that Hagrid was insufficient for the task. While he trusted the gamekeeper with his life, this was something that needed his own personal investigation.

Albus apparated directly to Privet Drive. The neighborhood was as perfectly normal and dull as he remembered it being ten years ago. He cast a quick spell over number 4 and confirmed that the blood wards had indeed vanished completely. Albus was worried, even if the Dursley's had relocated the blood wards surrounding the house would have been intact. He had set up systems to alert him if they were ever breached, and he knew those were still intact. The only way the wards could have vanished as they did was if Lily Evans's blood no longer lived on this earth, aside from her son. He had to be sure. Transfiguring his robes into an emerald muggle suit, Albus walked up to the door of 4 Privet Drive. He rang the bell and stood patiently on the porch. After a moment the door opened to reveal a young woman, roughly 7 months pregnant standing in the doorway. Albus could see signs of a young family behind her, and even heard children echoing from the hall. He smiled to himself at the sign of a happy family, but he could tell this woman was not Petunia Dursley.

"Can I help you, sir?" The woman asked.

"Perhaps. I am looking for the Dursley family, they resided here previously, do you know where I might find them?"

"I'm sorry, sir, but when we moved here the house was vacant. If I remember correctly, the previous owners were deceased. Not that there was any sign they had lived here; the house was in mint condition."

Albus's brow darkened at this confirmation, "thank you, Madam, I'm sorry to have disturbed you."

"I'm sorry I couldn't be more help to you."

"Not at all, you told me what I needed to know. Good morning, Madam."

Albus walked down the street to the home of Arabella Figg, the elderly squib woman who lived with her cats. Albus had placed her here as a mole to keep an eye on Harry, she should have informed him if something happened and the Dursley's had either moved or died. Ringing the bell on her house, Albus waited for her to answer. When she answered, she looked surprised to see him.

"Professor Dumbledore, what brings you here?"

"I've come looking for Harry Potter, Arabella."

"He's not here anymore, Professor, I thought you knew that."

Albus looked at the woman, "what do you mean?"

"It was in the obituary's this past winter. Vernon Dursley and his family were killed while on vacation just before the New Year. His sister, Marge, inherited any of his money and sold the house. The family that lives there now, the Holmes are a wonderful family. Gerald, the husband, is quite handsome, and his wife, Bethany, is a dear. She's expecting twins in September and–"

"Forgive me, Arabella," Dumbledore interrupted, "but I'm not concerned with the current muggles residing in number 4. I am however, deeply concerned about the previous inhabitants, especially their nephew."

"Oh, I know, Harry was such a sweet boy. Such a pity they treated him so poorly."

"They did?"

"Oh, yes, Headmaster, they were quite keen on trying to stamp out the wizard in the boy; not that they ever told anyone that. They hardly spent a dime on him if they didn't have to, and told everyone he was a delinquent youth, not quite right in the head."

Albus frowned, he had been afraid the Dursley's might try something along those line, but it couldn't be helped. He had left instructions for them, hoping that they would follow them. Vernon and Petunia were as pure-blooded muggles as one could find on the earth. His mind began racing. He should have been alerted if Harry was killed. At the very least, the ward surrounding the boy would have been triggered if he had been in immediate danger. And the prophesy, Harry was the one predicted to defeat Lord Voldemort. Albus could not accept that the boy was dead, not while Tom lingered in some dark corner of the world.

"I do wonder what happened to the boy, Professor," Arabella drew him out of his thoughts, "Marge never mentioned him in the obituary, although that could have been out of spite, she never like him much either. If you ask me, she's the one not quite right in the head, what with all her _dogs_ and all."

"Arabella, are you sure Harry was not killed?"

"He was never named among the deceased in the obituary, Professor, but then again he wasn't named as a survivor either."

Albus's eyes darkened in thought once again. This was perplexing. Either Harry Potter was dead, and no one ever heard, which seemed unlikely, or he was missing, most likely in an orphanage or living as a Ward of the Court.

"Arabella, if you'll excuse me, I need to make some inquiries."

"Of course, Professor Dumbledore. Good morning."

Albus left quickly walking to the corner of the street.

"Professer!"

Albus stopped as he heard Hagrid's voice.

"Professer Dumbledore, I came as fast as I could, Sir. Professor McGonagall tol' me e'ry thin' 'bout it."

"Not everything, Hagrid. You see, it appears that Vernon Dursley and family are deceased, and young Harry has slipped from beneath my watch. We need to locate him as soon as possible. While I do not believe he is in any immediate danger, he is our responsibility."

"Right ya are, sir,

"Hagrid, I need you to go to the muggle's Child Services office here in Surrey and ask them for any records on Harry Potter, or anything connected to the Dursleys."

"I'm on it, Professor Dumbledore, Sir."

With that, the half-giant lumbered away. Albus raised his wand and disaperated to London.

1st August, _AD 1991_

The Batman dropped from a rooftop to the alley floor. Quickly, he entered a door and found himself in a backstage. Silently, he moved through the shadows until he came to the hallway with dressing rooms. Picking the simple lock in seconds, he let himself into the room, walking into the corner, he stood silently in the dark and waited for his objective.

He did not wait long. Minutes after he entered, the dressing room door opened, and the lights flicked on. A dark-haired woman in fishnet leggings, thigh-high leather boots, a white tuxedo shirt and bow-tie, and a black coat with tails, walked in carrying her top hat and wand in her hands. Sitting down in front of a mirror, put her things down on the white desk in front of her. Her eyes caught a piece of neatly folded paper sitting in front of her jewelry cabinet. Opening the paper up she saw the image of a bat. Inhaling sharply, she spun around and saw him standing there.

"Zatanna."

"How are you, Bruce?"

"Busy."

"As always," she said reclining back in her seat seductively, "How can I help you?"

"What can you tell me about Hogwarts?"

Zatanna raised an eye brow, "What about it? It a magical academy in Great Britain."

"So, it's real."

"Yes of course."

"Then this letter is legitimate. It was delivered to my youngest…by an owl."

"Bruce, magical children receive acceptance letters when they turn eleven. Robin's thirteen? He would have started his magical training two years ago."

"Not Robin, I adopted a boy this winter, just after his family was murdered."

"Another one, Bruce? That makes what, four orphans plus one of your own?"

Batman nodded once in response.

Zatanna ran a hand through her hair smiling at the dark, brooding vigilante who adopted more children than many families have naturally, "Bruce, what I don't understand is why your son received a letter from Hogwarts; he should have been contacted by Ilvermorny."

"That's the American school I'm assuming?"

Zatanna nodded.

"He was born and raised in the U.K. until his family was killed while visiting Gotham and I adopted him."

"Even then, because he moved before school age, there should have been a magical immigration process filled out by the government, if he was from a magical family, if he's a No-Maj, the MACUSA would have picked up his unregistered magical signature and filed him. If he's No-Maj born, there should have also been a representative from Ilvermorny, or Hogwarts as it is, to hand deliver the letter and explain the existence of magic to the parents."

"How do I find out if his family were wizards or No-Maj?"

"His name would be easiest, especially in England, blood status is outrageously important there."

Batman pulled out the letter from Hogwarts, "Here's his letter."

Zatanna opened it and read the addressee's name. Her eyes enlarged, "Bruce…your son is Harry Potter?"

"Yes."

"He's a celebrity in England and known across the wizarding world. He's the only person ever to survive the killing curse, he was reported missing early last month and there's been conspiracies, and suspicions floating around ever since."

"If he's so important, why haven't they realized he's 'missing' before now? Plus, if he's missing, how did they know where to send his letter?"

Zatanna shook her head, "I don't know, Bruce, but I do know he's caused a big stir by not being in England."

"I need to meet with the people at Hogwarts."

"I can try to arrange a meeting."

"Just tell me where it is, I can arrange it myself."

"It's unplottable, I can't tell you the exact site."

"A general location will suffice."

"Scottish Highlands."

Batman turned to leave, "Bruce?" He paused, "can I meet him?"

"After I get some answers," he said plainly, with that he left the room as silently as he came.

 **Ye Ol' Author's Note: I am surprised by the response of the readers since posting this story. Thank you, Dear Readers, I hope you enjoy this chapter and will continue following this story.**

 **-A.R. Templar**


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

3rd August _1991_

Nearly a month had passed since Albus discovered the disappearance of Harry Potter. Somehow, the boy had fallen off the face of the earth. The Dursley's obituary said they had died in the United States, which slowed down investigations considerably. Once it became clear that the Boy Who Lived was not in England, he had been forced to alert the Ministry of Magic. They in turn alerted the _Daily Prophet_ and the whole wizarding world had been in an uproar since. MACUSA was being less than helpful, claiming that they had no record of any wizard by the name of Harry Potter in America. When asked if their muggle government might know anything, they said they could not say. Apparently magic/muggle relations in were not as common across the pond. He had continued his own private investigation. Severus, Minerva, Alistor, and Hagrid had all tirelessly searched as best they could. Stroking the head of his familiar, Phaux, his musings were interrupted by the sound of the gargoyle moving and footsteps climbing the staircase.

"Come in," the headmaster beckoned, after the knock.

Minerva strode in briskly, "There is a person at the gates, Headmaster."

"Is it the ministry?"

"No, Headmaster, I believe it is a muggle, but he is not deterred by our wards."

"Have Hagrid bring him in. We can obliviate him if need be."

A few moments later, Hagrid entered his office followed by a tall, powerfully built man with dark hair and blue eyes. He was dressed in a tailored muggle suit, that looked to be expensive. He walked with a confidence that boasted wealth.

"How can I help you sir?" Albus asked politely.

"You're the headmaster I presume?" the muggle had a distinctly American accent.

"I am," he replied extending his hand, "Professor Albus Dumbledore; this is my Deputy, Professor McGonagall."

"Bruce Wayne." They shook hands, Albus remarking the strength of Wayne's grip and gestured for him to take a seat.

"My ward received a letter from this institution earlier this week. Naturally, this came as a surprise, as none of us had ever heard of Hogwarts. I resolved that I would like to see the school for myself before I decided whether or not to allow him to attend. After all, Scotland is a long way from Gotham City, especially for an eleven-year-old."

As Wayne spoke, Albus was puzzled. How had this American muggle even found Hogwarts? Who was his ward and why did he receive a letter from Hogwarts rather than Ilvermorny? These were all questions that needed answering.

"Pardon me, Mr. Wayne, but there must be some mistake. Hogwarts only accepts students from Great Britain and Ireland. Your ward, if he is a wizard, should attend Ilvermorny which is the Wizarding school in America."

"No Professor, you see he was an English citizen up until recently and I guess that the British bureaucracy is such that the magical government must have missed his adoption and immigration to America."

"Interesting, and what is your ward's name, Mr. Wayne, perhaps we can see if he is indeed listed on our roster for First Years."

Wayne's eyes glinted as if he thought he somehow had an upper hand in the discussion, which was odd considering nothing of real importance had been discussed yet. "His name, Professor, is Harry Potter."

The room fell silent as the tomb. Albus could not hide his surprise at the revelation, Minerva looked as if she were so utterly shocked that she might fall, and Wayne looked pleased with himself. Albus recovered quickly attempting to act as if the name meant nothing more than it would for any other student.

"Ah, yes, I do recall his name. His parents were both students here; it is only fitting that Harry study here as well. I can assure you that he will be comfortable here and receive the very best in education."

"And Security?"

"He will be safer here than anywhere, Mr. Wayne."

Wayne looked as if he were trying to read Albus's mind, it was not legimancy but had an eerie similarity that he had never experienced from a muggle.

"One more question, Professor."

"Of course."

"Why did I not learn of Harry's magical abilities until recently? I feel that it is something that would have been good to know shortly after taking custody of him."

"Like all government affairs, Mr. Wayne, some things fall through the cracks and take time. Muggle/Magic relations take even longer, it is probable that Harry's adoption simply got lost in, as you called is, 'the British Bureaucracy.' As for Harry not telling you himself, I'm sure the boy has his reasons. Perhaps he is not yet comfortable enough to share such a personal secret of his life. After all, Mr. Wayne, there is a Statute of Secrecy for a reason."

Wayne's brow darkened at the headmaster's words. Obviously disturbed by the idea of his ward withholding something from him. The tall man rose from his chair,

"Thank you for your time, Professor Dumbledore, I'll talk to Harry and make sure that he wants to attend your school this Fall and will send you a reply shortly."

"Certainly, Mr. Wayne, thank you for taking such attention in your ward's education and wellbeing. And I reiterate, Hogwarts is the finest magical institution in the world."

They shook hands, "Thank you. Good day."

Bruce walked out of the office, memorizing every turn he took out of the castle. Nothing about the castle had surprised him yet, it only took dealing with magic once to learn to expect the unexpected. Upon reaching the gates, he bid farewell to the large Gamekeeper, and began his trek to his helicopter. Pulling what looked to be a Geiger Counter from his suit's pocket, he quickly inspected the readings. He built this device a couple of years prior for a purpose and one purpose only: measure magical energy waves. The readings from around Hogwarts were off the chart. There was enough magical interference in the area to disrupt even the strongest signals. If he wanted to learn more about the castle's inhabitants, he would have to do it the old-fashioned way. Getting re-entry into the castle would be difficult. Unless he overestimated Dumbledore, which he did not, there were undoubtedly wards surrounding the grounds. Not the kind of wards that can be dismantled and reinstated on a whim; these wards must allow ways for students and visitors to pass. The gate naturally would be the portal to the grounds, but there is always a backdoor. Always. Five yards away from the gate, the Magi-Counter lay on zero. Taking a homing device from his pocket, Bruce buried it in the ground. That will have to do for now. Now it was time for him to do his homework on Hogwarts.

4th August _AD 1991._

"I take it your meeting went well, Sir?"

"Yes, Alfred, thank you."

"And presumably there will be future visits to Scotland?"

Bruce sat down in the back seat of the limousine as his butler closed the door, "That will be up to Harry."

"Quite right, Sir." They drove on towards the Manor as Alfred updated Bruce on events concerning Wayne Enterprises, Gotham City in general, and of course, the always complicated Wanye family: "Miss Gordon sprained her ankle last night, she is fine, but I recommend keeping her off duty for the time being. Master Richard is currently visiting from Blüdhaven, and Master Timothy is spending the afternoon with his classmates from Gotham High but will return for super and evening activities."

"Damian and Harry?"

"Both are at the Manor."

"When we get home, have Harry meet me in my study, Alfred."

"Would it not be better to wait, Master Bruce?"

"I'd rather get this over with. Also, Dick might be a calming influence if he needs one."

"As you wish."

Harry tentatively knocked on the door of Bruce's study. He rarely went in there, and Bruce had never asked for him to meet in there.

"Come in, Harry," Bruce's baritone sounded from within. Pushing the door, Harry entered. Bruce stood looking at the portrait of his parents and him. Harry had never talked much about Bruce's parents with the man. Bruce shared that they had been killed when he was a boy, when he had first adopted Harry and that had been something that Harry felt they had in common. Then he learned that all the boys, except Damian, were orphans and for once he felt like he belonged.

"Harry, is there anything about you or your family you would like to share with me?"

Harry froze where he was as Bruce turned to look at him. He was terrified and confused now. What did Bruce mean by that? Was he angry at Harry? For what? Harry had tried to be honest with the man ever since he took him in.

"No, Sir. I think I told you everything I know."

"Harry," Bruce looked at him sternly, as if his piercing blue eyes looking deep into the boy's soul, "are you keeping any secrets from me?"

"No," he was scared. Bruce had never interrogated him before, so why now? Bruce continued to look at him, reading his face and body language daring him to show any signs of a lie. Harry stared back defiantly, doing his best to not buckle from the stare. Finally, after what felt like an agonizing long period of silence, he gave away and broke eye contact.

Bruce sighed, and his entire demeanor changed, "I believe you, Harry."

"Can I go now?" Harry asked now utterly confused.

"No," Harry stopped mid turn, "I need to show you something."

Bruce reached inside his suit coat and removed an envelope with a wax seal and green ink. Harry recognized it at once as the letter that had been delivered by the owl. "This was delivered for you."

"Damian took it from me."

"Yes, you have to admit, Harry, mail delivered by an owl in broad daylight is strange."

"But it's mine."

"Which is why I'm giving it to you now. I'd appreciate if you opened it right away."

Harry did as he was instructed, he pushed is glasses up on his nose as he held the letter up. As he read the letter, he felt a range of emotions flood through him.

"Is this some kind of joke?" he asked as angry tears began to form in his eyes, "'Hogwarts School of _Witchcraft and Wizardry'_ do you all think that I'm stupid?"

"Harry, this is not a joke. I had the best resources investigate it before I gave it to you, and this 'Hogwarts' is a legitimate school."

"But magic can't be real."

"Think, Harry, all those times that the inexplainable happened around you, those were early signs of accidental magic."

Harry looked at his guardian. Bruce wasn't the kind of person to carry on a practical joke like this. His face was stoic, and his voice lecturing, nothing to give the impression of teasing. "But how can I be a wizard?" He finally asked, accepting that Bruce was not jesting.

"From what I have learned, Harry, your parents were both magically inclined, and thus so are you. Obviously, your Aunt and Uncle either didn't know, or kept this fact from you either out of malice or intended on telling you when you turned eleven."

"I'm betting they hid it. The Dursleys wouldn't have been the type of people to like magic," Harry grumbled.

"Regardless, Harry, you need to decide whether or not you whish to pursue this. If you wish to go to Scotland and study magic, I will not stop you. If you wish to stay in Gotham and continue to live as a non-magical person, you may do so." He paused, squatted down in front of Harry, put his hands on his shoulders, and added, "whichever you choose, this will still be your home."

"You– you don't mind that I'm a wizard?"

"Harry, you're my ward, you are part of this family. You being a wizard does not change that."

Harry hugged Bruce around the neck, "I want to go," he whispered

"Then we will make the arrangements for you to be there September first."

"Do the others know?"

"Only Alfred."

Pushing his guardian to arm's length, "Should I tell them?"

"Do you want to keep it a secret?" Bruce questioned.

"Well…"

"Harry, it's up to you whether to tell them. However, I recommend that if you tell anyone, you keep this in the family."

"I'll tell them."

"Then go ahead and do so."

Harry turned and walked out of the room clutching the letter in his hand. He was a wizard. His parents had been a witch and wizard. Him going to Hogwarts felt as if for the first time, he had a part of them he could grasp. He wasn't sure how he was going to tell his adopted family, but he did know that knowing he was a wizard made the world make more sense.

"So, are you going to tell him your little secret?" Dick asked Bruce.

The older man remained seated in his computer chair in the Batcave. Dick was leaning against the desk still wearing his Nightwing uniform, looking intently at him, "No."

"Wait, come on. You mean you're going to withhold this from him even after you found out he's a wizard?"

"It's because he's a wizard that I won't tell him," Bruce replied while typing on the keyboard.

"I know you don't trust magic, Bruce, but he's part of the family, he deserves your trust the same as the rest of us."

"It's not Harry I don't trust. It's all the other wizards. There are too many wizards too skilled at mindreading to trust him with it. Not that he would share the knowledge willingly, but that it might be taken from him."

"You could always teach him to shield his mind the way you taught us."

"He's leaving for Hogwarts in less than a month; there isn't time to train him. It takes years to build mental defenses that can withstand a wizard's probes."

"Harry's too smart and too curious not to find out on his own. What are you going to do when that happens?"

"I have a contingency plan."

Dick rolled his eyes, "Of course you do."

Bruce finally looked away from the computer, "Zatanna is coming on Wednesday to help give him a brief jump start in magical education before the school year starts. While she is here, she will build a defense in his mind that will hopefully prevent anyone from stumbling into it. It's only temporary, until he can build more of his own."

"And how are you going to explain to Harry that you know a witch if you're not going to tell him about Batman?"

Bruce stared down his eldest ward, the raven-haired young man was obviously bating him for something, "I'm a billionaire, Dick, it's not hard to believe that I hired her."

Dick shook his head, "The lengths you go to lie to us, Bruce, will never cease to amaze me." He straddled his bike, "why don't you just tell him the truth?"

"I just told you, D—"

"No, not the whole Batman thing; just tell him the other half of the truth."

"Which is?"

Dick smiled cheekily at his mentor, "she's your ex!" with that, the young man roared his bike to life and left the cave for Blüdhaven.


	5. Chapter 4

August 7th, _AD_ 1991

Harry sat down at the table as Alfred placed a stack of waffles before him.

"Good morning, Master Harry."

"Good morning, Alfred."

"Will it be milk or orange juice to drink?"

"Orange juice please."

Bruce was sitting at the head of the table sipping his coffee, Damian was already off about his day, and Tim had yet to raise his head from his pillow. Harry glanced at Bruce, then quickly back to his breakfast. Bruce hadn't said anything to Harry since he gave him the letter from Hogwarts. Come to think of it, the only person in the manor who had spoken to him was Alfred. He was sure that the revelation that he was a wizard was the reason, but Bruce had said that it didn't matter, so why did it feel like it did? He was lost in his thoughts, drinking his orange juice, when he was interrupted.

"Harry."

Bruce was looking at him with that stern stare of his. Harry wasn't sure how long he'd been waiting for him to acknowledge that Bruce was speaking to him.

"Erm…yes?"

"I've arranged for a skilled witch, Zatanna Zatara, to come in this morning and help prepare you for Hogwarts."

"Wait, a witch?"

"Yes, a witch. I suspect that there is much about the wizarding world that we do not know, and I believe it best if you were not shipped off to school in the dark."

Harry paused, it had never crossed his mind that he knew absolutely nothing about the magical world into which he would soon be immersed. He wasn't even sure where he could get all the stuff he needed for school. If a real witch was coming, she could answer a lot of questions he had.

"When Zatanna gets here, Harry," Bruce interrupted his thoughts, "ask questions, listen to everything she tells you and hold on to it. You will likely be bombarded with new information, be attentive."

"And don't forget to be courteous, Master Harry," Alfred added as he refilled Bruce's coffee.

"I won't, Alfred, I promise."

"I know you will, you are the _one_ person in this family on whom I can count for that."

Looking back to Bruce, Harry added, "Will you be here when she comes?"

"Yes."

Harry nodded, "I've never met a magician, or a witch before. The Dursley's refused to go to any shows. One time a magician was supposed to come perform for my class, and Uncle Vernon forbade me to attend school that day. He wrote a letter to the principle complaining that the teacher was not teaching proper material and that she should be sacked. At the time I thought that it was weird, but that it was just how the Dursley's were. Now I wonder if they knew about me being a wizard and tried to hide it from me."

Bruce looked at his youngest ward, "I don't have an answer to that, Harry," he stood up and put his paper down, "I have some business I need to attend to before Zatanna gets here. Please don't disturb me. Alfred, inform me once she gets here."

"Yes, Sir."

Harry finished his breakfast as his guardian left. Excitement coursing through his veins at an unprecedented rate. He was going to meet a witch; someone like him! He felt far too much energy in him to sit still while he waited, so he decided to play with his new baseball mitt. Going to the back of the house, he tossed the ball up into the air and caught it as it came back down. He repeated this action, testing the limits of how far he could throw the ball and still catch it. At one point the wind caught the ball, blowing it to the left of where Harry anticipated it. The boy dove to the side snagging the ball with the tip of his glove. Harry held it up to his face, the ball peaking out of the leather glove like a snow cone.

"Well done, Master Harry," Alfred spoke from the patio, "I dare say even Master Dick would have struggled to make that catch."

"Thanks, Alfred!" Harry picked himself up off the ground and prepared to do it again.

"I'm afraid that it is time for you to come inside, young sir. Miss Zatarra has arrived and is waiting in the parlor."

"Oh, alright," Harry made his way to the house. He put his glove and ball on the chair beside the back door. Alfred pulled Harry into the kitchen and gave him a look over. Pulling out a comb from within his waistcoat, the butler wetted Harry's hair and attempted to smooth the mess.

"Tut-tut, Master Harry, is there no way to straighten your hair?"

"I don't think so."

"Then I guess that will have to do," the old gentleman sighed, "remember, be on you best behavior around Miss Zatara, she is doing a great favor by coming here."

"I will, Alfred."

"Quite right." Alfred led Harry to the parlor, he opened the door and ushered the boy inside.

Harry looked at the woman sitting down talking to Bruce. She was short, her shoulder length hair was the color of a raven, contrasting starkly with her pale skin. She was dressed in a business suit, with tight pants that could have been painted on, and a coat that displayed her curves. She spotted the boy, and her eyes widened as a smile stretched across her red lips.

"Miss Zatara, allow me to introduce you to Harry Potter, the newest addition to our home. Master Harry, Zatanna Zatara, the finest performing witch in America," the butler almost paused before adding, "and a dear friend."

Zatanna stood smiling and walked to Harry, "It's a pleasure to meet you Harry!" she said, her eyes instantly going to his lightning bolt shaped scar.

"You too," Harry felt awkward at how fast her eyes latched onto it. He almost thought she might ask to touch it but was deliberately refraining from doing so.

"I appreciate you coming, Zatanna, naturally this is a new experience for us."

"Don't mention it, Bruce," she turned and smiled at the billionaire, "I'm happy to help."

"Come sit down, Harry, and you can ask Zatanna any questions you have."

Harry sat next to Bruce, Zatanna across from them, crossed her legs as she leaned back into the chair, "what would you like to know, Harry?"

Harry didn't know where to start. He had too many questions to know where to start. Many of his questions had to do with his family: his mum and dad, but he doubted that Zatanna could answer those. Some of the more general questions pertained to the magical world as a whole, those he assumed she could answer. He decided to start with what might sound childish but had been nagging at him since last night.

"Is magic real? Not just the magic tricks you see at the theatres?"

Zatanna smiled, "Yes, Harry, magic is real, not just illusions." She looked at Bruce, who nodded his head, "if you'd like, I can show you some simple spells."

Harry nodded. Zatanna pulled out a wooden wand, "every Wizard or Witch gets a wand when they turn eleven. You'll get one before you go to school, and the wandmakers can explain far better to you their properties than I can. For now, just know that wands make a difference." She swung the wand in an easy motion towards the coffee table, " _ingorgio"_ the coffee table between them began to grow. When it stopped both ends were touching the room's occupants, and Harry found himself looking underneath it rather than across from it.

Harry was speechless, he touched a wooden leg to be sure it was real. He couldn't believe that he had just seen magic, real magic!

"That's amazing," he managed to whisper.

Bruce gave Zatanna a look easily conveying his intentions. The young Witch quickly reversed the spell, which enthralled Harry even more.

"What else do you want to know?"

"How did I become a wizard?"

Zatanna looked at Harry in shock, "you don't know?"

"I told him that it His parents were wizards," Bruce said, "but that's as much as I know."

She nodded then looked at Harry. "Harry, your parents were both magical, and passed on the genetics to you. I can't give you details to their deaths because I don't know all of it, but they were killed by a dark wizard, Voldemort, when you were just a baby."

Harry's face paled. All those years the Dursley's had told him that his parents had died in a drunken car crash. Had they known the truth? Had they deliberately lied to him? It seemed likely. "What else?"

"Harry, He tried to turn the curse on you, but it rebounded killing him instead." Zatanna looked at Harry with mesmerized eyes, "the curse left a scar on your forehead instead. Everywhere you go in the magical world, when people see that scar, they will recognize you as 'The Boy who Lived.' You're famous, Harry, possibly the most famous wizard in the world, certainly in all of Britain."

That was a shock to Harry's ears. Not only was he finding himself immersed in a world he had not known existed until the previous night, but now he was learning that he was a celebrity in this new world. That people would recognize him faster than paparazzi recognized Bruce Wayne. He rubbed the lightning shaped scar on his forehead, Aunt Petunia had told him it came from the car crash that killed his parents, now hearing the truth about how his parents had died, this scar suddenly meant more to him. They died protecting him, they weren't drunks, they actually cared for him, loved him, just like he always imagined they did.

"Harry, Bruce asked me to teach you just a little bit about magic before you go to Hogwarts. Are you ready?"  
Harry nodded.

"The first thing to recognize, Harry, is that there are limits to what magic can do. While everything magic does is remarkable, it cannot do the impossible. Nonetheless, someone once told me this, and I'll share it with you." She smiled briefly at Bruce, "when dealing with magic, expect the unexpected." Zatanna took out her wand again and conjured a glowing golden orb. Harry's attention was drawn to the colorful light as she continued speaking.

"There are many fields of magic, most of which you will learn at Hogwarts. Charms, transfiguration, potions, and defense magic are some of the most basic schools you will study. You will encounter magical creatures that you previously thought were myths. Goblins, dragons, thunderbirds, Wumpus, and ghosts all exist, as do many more."

As she spoke, Harry's attention became more and more focused on the glowing sphere, which had changed from gold to blue. The deeper he looked, the more intricate it appeared. What originally looked to be a smooth globe of light, suddenly displayed swirls and ridges, rises and falls in the texture. The closer he inspected, the further away Zatanna's voice seemed to be.

Abruptly, the shimmering orb vanished. Harry blinked three times as his head jerked up.

"Do you have any more questions, Harry?" Zatanna asked as she pocketed her wand.

"Umm," Harry realized he had not payed much attention to what she was saying. He did not want to let on that he had blanked out, that would be considered rude of him. What would Alfred or Bruce think if he admitted that he had spaced out when Zatanna was trying to teach him stuff. "No. I think that sums it up." He noticed Bruce give Zatanna a questioning glance. "I'm sure I will have more questions that will come up after I get to Hogwarts."

Zatanna nodded, "you are always welcome to send me an owl with any of your questions."

"Owl?" Harry questioned.

"Magical England still uses Owl Post as the primary mail service. Don't ask me why, they're just backwards like that."

"Oh."

Zatanna stood straight and tossed her raven hair away from her face. "I suppose that concludes my business here. It was a pleasure meeting you, Harry."

"You too."

The young witch turned her attention to Bruce, "It was good seeing you again, Bruce."

"Lovely as always, Zatanna, thank you again for coming."

"I'm happy to help." She walked over to the billionaire, looking up into his blue eyes, "please call if you need anything else."

"I'll be sure to do that."

Zatanna stood on her tiptoes, leaning towards him, then rocked back onto her heels, "I need to get going." She said turning away from Bruce.

"Alfred will show you out."


	6. Chapter 5

August 8th, 1991

The Red Hood crouched on a rooftop staring through his scope at the mobsters in the building across the street. His crosshairs centered perfectly on the back of Anthony Caratini Junior's head.

"Come on, hand him the dough," Hood grumbled to himself, "make the damn pass."

The Cuban facing Caratini extracted a wad of green bills from his coat and put them into the lieutenant crime lord's hand. On cue two men brought cases from the black Escalades parked there. That was all Hood needed to see—BANG!

Caratini dropped with a fifty-caliber hole through his skull.

BANG! BANG!

The two men with the cases were down.

BANG!

The crook who had paid Caratini and the thug behind him both fell as they reached for the fallen cases. The other thugs scattered as quick as the Cadillac's would take them, leaving nothing but exhaust and the smell of burning rubber in the urban twilight.

Red Hood sighed as he waited to be sure they were all gone. Slinging his rifle over his shoulder, he repelled himself down to the street. Picking up the cases, he smiled to himself beneath his helmet, "Who knew the Caratinis were dealing with the Commies? So much for patriotism." Just as he prepared to grapple back onto the rooftops, his com beeped in his earpiece.

"Red Hood," He answered.

"Nightwing wants you at the Birds' Nest," Batgirl said on the other line.

"Isn't that nice. Fortunately, I'm busy so I'll have to decline the invitation."

"He says it's important."

"It's always important to him. He'll gather all the birds like the apocalypse is happening just to tell everybody that he found a new mocha-latte flavor."

"Don't exaggerate, if he says it's important, it's important." The irritation in Batgirl's voice sounding through the microphone. "Just come, please? Don't give him another reason to be mad at you."

"Hmph."

"Come and then get ice cream with me tonight?"

Hood paused, his smile grew, "You always do know ways to convince me."

"Just ice cream, Jason!"

Dick sighed as he looked around the big open room that was the _Birds' Nest,_ nostalgia filling his senses _._ He first discovered this room in an old condemned building in his Robin days. He determined to make it his own hideout for those times he needed to get away from Bruce. He first showed it to Barbara when they started dating, it was where they shared their first kiss, and more. He lived here for the first week after he left Wayne Manor, before embarking on his travels. The interior decorations had changed since he first began to inhabit the room, but each piece brought with it its own memories. The couch, radio, and circus poster were the only original pieces. The table and chairs came when he and Babs started having takeout dinner dates here. The beanbag chairs were added when Tim was introduced along with the TV, video cassette player, and Atari game consul. The old refrigerator was the most recent addition to the Nest. As much as Dick resented Barbara sharing the secret with Jason behind his back, he did appreciate the fridge and beer supply that he brought, although moving that thing up the rickety stairway was not something he wanted to do again. On the west wall hung a dart board with numerous holes surrounding it from missed throws. The left arm of the couch had a giant gash in the upholstery from where Damian attacked Tim in rage with a katana.

The smell of Pizza brought Dick out of his reminiscences. Tim stood behind him, with messy hair, bags under his eyes, and a pizza box in his hands.

"Is there any coffee left up here?" the teen asked groggily.

Dick shook his head, "I drank up the last of it yesterday—"

"—and as usual, you didn't replace what you used up," Barbra interrupted from the doorway. She set down the grocery sacks she brought with her, produced a coffee can from one of them and limped over to Tim. She handed the red can to the teen as she opened the pizza box, "Mmm, Peperoni. Awesome!"

The Redheaded woman smiled at Dick as she took a bite and walked tenderly over to sit on the couch, propping her sprained ankle on the coffee table.

Tim shuffled over to the coffee machine and began brewing a pot. Dick helped himself to the pizza and took a seat next to Barbra. Shortly thereafter, Damian swung through the window in his full Robin regalia.

"This better be quick, Grayson, father and I are busy," the young teen condescended.

Dick did not dignify him with a response, so Damian stomped over and sat in a beanbag. They all waited in silence listening to the urban ambiance.

"Can we just start now?" asked Tim after several moments, "it's not like he's going to actually show up."

Dick looked at Barbra questioningly.

"He said he was coming," she defended.

"And he _always_ does what he says," Damian said sarcastically.

"Five bucks says he skips out," said Tim.

"Make it fifty and I'll take that bet, Replacement."

All heads spun as Jason stomped across the creaking floor and sat down on the other side of Barbra from Dick, flicking the white streak of hair from his face. "So, Dicky boy," he said helping himself to pizza, "what was oh so important that you had to call your dear little brothers together?"

Dick stood up and looked at the assembly, "It's about Harry."

Damian scoffed.

"Ah," said Tim.

Barbra raised her eyebrows in mild alarm.

"What about him?" asked Jason through a mouthful.

Dick shook his head, as if he just remembered, "that's right, you wouldn't know because as usual you haven't been around to hear the news."

"What news?" Jason pushed.

"It's not our secret to share, Dick," spoke Tim, "let him be in the dark until Harry tells him."

"Then why the hell invite me to this damn thing?" Jason growled, "Screw all this, I'll just leave."

"Jason, wait!" yelled Dick as the younger man stood up, "Tim's right, it's not my secret, so don't let on that you know until Harry tells you, but Harry is—"

"Harry's a wizard. Right, is that what you're gonna tell me? Yeah, I know."

"Who told you?" Dick said alarmed.

"Who the hell else tells me anything in this family?" Jason snarled.

All eyes turned to Barbra who sat on the couch with eyes wide.

" _You_ told him?"

"He deserved to know, Dick. He's as much Harry's brother as all of you are," she glared at the boys in the room. "And don't act like I did anything wrong, Richard. _You're_ the one who told me after all." The young woman's eyes blazed as she stared down the eldest of Bruce Wayne's wards.

Jason sat back down with a smug look. The silence now hung heavy over the room. Everyone's own thoughts smoldering. "So now that the big secret is out, Golden Boy," said Jason after the tension began to loosen, "what did you call us all together for?"

It took Dick a moment to process Jason's question. Once the words registered in his ears, he saw the expectant looks on the faces around him.

"Right. Um, as we're all aware of I guess, Harry is a wizard and will be going to Scotland soon. I just felt like we should do something special for him. I mean, when he told me, it felt like he was expecting me to ostracize him or something." Dick paused here as he tried to wrap up his spiel, "I just want to make sure he doesn't think that we're shunning him or something because of this. Like Babs just said, he is our little brother we need to make sure we still treat him as such."

"Well that'll sure make him feel loved," Jason said sarcastically.

Barbra jumped in quickly, "I agree with you, Dick, we should make sure he knows he is still loved and apart of the family."

Dick smiled at Barbra thankful she kept someone from replying to Jason's snark, "Even Bruce said that him being a wizard doesn't change his status. If Bruce is willing to overlook that, I think we can all do it."

Another pause fell between them.

"I already told Harry it doesn't matter to me if he's a wizard," said Tim, "and I stand by that. He's not the first wizard any of us have encountered, and he probably won't be the last. He's certainly not the most dangerous we've faced."

"Potter has no training in the magical arts yet," Damian added, "but he will. I believe we should cautiously keep him as an ally."

Jason coughed at Damian's remark, and received a quick smack in the shoulder from Barbra.

Dick looked pointedly at Jason, "Do or you have an issue with Harry's magical status?"

"No," came the deadpan reply.

Dick nodded.

"So, what're you planning for the kid?"

The eldest Wayne ward looked around him, "I'm open to suggestions."

"I have an idea," spoke Tim after a brief hesitation, "and I'm pretty sure he'll like it."

 **Ye Ol' Author's Note:**

 **Sorry for the delay in updates. Hopefully will have more time this winter.**

 **-A.R. Templar**


	7. Chapter 6

August 10th, _AD_ 1991

"Harry!" Dick's voice called down from the foot of the stairwell leading to his bedroom.

Harry leaped from his bed and ran down the hall to see his adopted brother.

"By Jove, Master Dick," Alfred scolded as Harry got to the top of the stairs, "You know better than to yell through the house."

"Sorry, Alfred," Dick apologized. Looking up at Harry he grinned, "Hey, Wingless, are you busy?"

"No," Harry replied.

"Great. Then let's go!" The elder boy said as he grabbed Harry's wrist.

"Wait, Dick, where are we going?" Harry protested.

Dick paused, "does it really matter?"

"Well, um…"

"Precisely it doesn't, so come on."

Dick resumed dragging Harry through the front door to where his motorcycle was parked. Tossing a helmet to Harry, Dick told him to climb on, which Harry obediently did although in a slight daze of confusion.

Dick sped out of the circular driveway away from the manor and towards the city. The late morning beat down causing a slight mirage to rise from the pavement as the two boys sped down Gotham's freeway. Harry smiled as the air whipped his clothes and skin as they passed the other vehicles. This was only his second time riding behind Dick on his bike, but he loved it.

"It's like flying!" he said when Dick pulled into a parking spot in a parking structure.

"It almost is." Dick laughed as he rubbed Harry's hair, "that's why I ride it, buddy."

"I had a dream once about a flying motorcycle." Harry confessed sheepishly as they walked away from the bike.

"Now wouldn't that be something."

"I know it's stupid, but it's just something I dreamed."

"Who knows, Wingless, maybe after you're done with wizard school, you can come home and cast a spell on my bike to make it fly." Dick laughed and Harry felt himself smile as his adopted brother walked him to the escalator. Harry realized he had not been paying attention to where Dick was taking him, and he now looked around trying to catch his bearings.

"Where are we?"

"You'll see soon enough."

They rode the escalator up along with a group of other people heading both up and down the automated staircase. The people going down, all held shopping bags and Harry recognized his location.

"We're at the Mall!" Harry said excitedly.

"Yep. Come on!"

They walked quickly down the halls of the Gotham Mall until Harry saw Tim, Damian, Barbra, and Jason all standing outside of the arcade. He waved eagerly to them and Barbra waved back with that big smile that only she could give.

"You guys are here too?" He said excitedly, "why?"

"Well, it's not everyday that your youngest brother finds out he's a wizard, Harry." Said Dick.

"So, we decided to celebrate," Barbra added, "and what better place than an arcade?"

"Really?" Harry said, flabbergasted, "you want to celebrate that?" The whole concept seemed incredulous.

"Really, really." Tim said.

"Come on, Harry," Jason said grabbing his shoulder, "let's go play Air-Hockey."

Harry lost track of time in the arcade. The bright colored lights and sounds of the games inundated his senses. He beat Jason in Air-Hockey, and defended his title against Damian, but lost it to Barbra. Jason and Damian were busy shooting aliens, so he left Dick and Barbra the Air-Hockey table and took up the Drag-Racing game. He lost count of how many different games he played, with his family or by himself. They all gathered around the Just Dance game and tested each other's skills in a round robin tournament. After Tim surprised everyone as the family's dance champion Barbra put an end to the gaming.

"I don't know about you boys, but I'm famished."

The mention of food caught everyone's attention. Variations of "me too" echoed from the boys and they made their way to the food court, where unsurprisingly, no one could agree on a food.

Damian was set on Chinese food, where Tim begged for Pizza. Jason told everyone they could all suck it, because he did not care what they all did, he was going to eat tacos. Miraculously, Dick managed to get everyone to stop bickering just long enough to ask Harry his preference.

"Um…" Harry scoured the Food Court, "how about Blimpie's?"

"But—"

"Shut up, Demon Spawn," Barbra interrupted Damian's complaint, "It's Harry's choice so, sub-sandwiches it is. Period."

After lunch they all agreed to see a movie. Following the late matinee, the makeshift family stood outside of the Mr. Slushy back in the Food Court.

"Erm… Thanks, everybody, for today." Harry said, "I really had fun."

"Of course, buddy!" Barbra said, "but you should especially thank Dick, it was his idea."

"Thanks, Dick."

"No sweat, Harry. We just wanted to make sure you knew that we don't care about you being a wizard or anything like that. You're still a part of the family no matter what, and I mean that."

Harry hugged Dick around the waist. All doubts he had been harboring about his status with his adopted brothers was wiped away and he realized that he truly had a family of his own. A motley and dysfunctional family, but his family, nonetheless. Barbra stepped in and hugged him from behind and she was soon followed by the rest thus forming a family group hug in the middle of the mall.

"Thank you, guys," Harry mumbled to the group around him, "thank you."

The roar of an engine broke the silence of the underground cavern. Nightwing, Red Robin, and Batgirl were all reclining against the tables and shelves which decorated the vast space of the Batcave. All three youths rose erect in expectation. Red Robin sighed as he recognized the particular engine. Nightwing stiffened and looked pointedly at Batgirl, who combed her fingers through her red hair which she tossed behind her.

Red Hood parked his motorcycle alongside Nightwing's. Setting his namesake on the seat, he made his way up to the bay where the others waited.

"Can't even be on time to his own party?" The gunslinger spat.

His comment failed to garner a reply. Stomping over next to Batgirl he casually leaned against the giant computer.

Silence hung around the gathered vigilantes, none of them daring to break it until for the second time that night thundering of an engine reverberated through the cave. As the Batmobile came to a halt and the dynamic duo stepped out, those who were gathered stood to attention. The Batman stalked over to his chair.

"Everyone's here. Good." His gravelly voice said as he took his seat. Turning to face the large screens, he quickly pulled up a file labeled, _Case File 2259832._ Providing the required password to open the file, Batman produced a holographic image of a castle, a satellite image of a Scottish countryside, and various personnel profiles.

"That's Hogwarts?" Nightwing asked.

"This is it. The magical signature of the place is off the charts," Batman replied as he zoomed in on the hologram. A red line became visible against the computer blue. "This is the path I took from the front gate to the Headmaster's office. The rest of the castle is still a mystery. Like most heavily concentrated hubs of magic, Technology won't work. Any investigations made into Hogwarts will need to be done with feet on the ground and via inside intelligence."

"To what end, B?" Batgirl asked.

"The end will become apparent, Batgirl," the caped crusader answered. "Dumbledore is a man of secrets. From my brief interactions with him, it's evident that he prides himself on being one step ahead of everyone else; he's a man of secrets. Just what his motives or designs are, is still a mystery, but one that needs solved."

The other vigilantes exchanged glances. Batman turned his chair around to face his proteges.

"Batgirl, you and Red Robin will dig into magical news sources report anything that attracts your attention. Nightwing, you're going to take a few days after we drop Harry off in London and memorize the topography around Hogwarts. Red Hood," Batman gave the man in question a stern glare.

"You plan on giving me an assignment, or are you just going to stare at me?"

Batman turned his attention away from the rouge, "Never mind. I'll see to it myself." Standing, he stalked back over to the Batmobile, "Get back on patrol, everyone."


	8. Chapter 7

August 12th _AD_ 1991.

Dumbledore gazed longingly at the Mirror of Erised and sighed. How easy it was to be captured in the desires of what could have been had things gone differently. Dangerous really. Turning away from the relic he meandered through the halls of the school. In another few weeks, these vacant corridors would be teeming with students, joy and merriment that can only be found in youth will fill the currently empty space, and it all will be good again. Albus knew many of his teachers preferred the quiet calm that came with the summer holidays, but he himself preferred the school term. As relaxing as the summers could be without the bustle of students, they were rather dull without the commotion that came with the growth and development of young witches and wizards. Despite his eager anticipation of the coming term, the aging headmaster felt a deep foreboding accompanying it. Just yesterday he had made the decision for Hagrid to finally withdraw the Philosopher's Stone from Gringots and begin its residency at Hogwarts. A decision, according to this morning's Auror's visit, was made in the nick of time. How Lord Voldemort managed to penetrate Gringots remained a mystery to him, but that the dark lord was somehow behind it, Albus was sure. Dumbledore was not a man to believe in coincidences, nor did was he obsessed with divination, but the fact that Voldemort had made his move the year Harry Potter was to start at Hogwarts was an ominous.

Harry's situation weighed heavy on the old wizard's mind. The boy was being brought into the magical world utterly in the dark of any of his history. If Arabella's rambling report was accurate, Harry's relatives had neglected him and hid him from any and all magic. On top of that, the Boy-who-Lived now found himself the ward of an American billionaire, whose reputation of a playboy was well documented. What impact on the boy's psyche Wayne might have was still to be seen.

Bruce Wayne was another question in of himself. Everything he could discover of the muggle was that he was a billionaire, playboy, owner and CEO of a major enterprise, and orphaned as a young boy. The man's orphan status may be what lead him to adopt seemingly random boys, of whom Harry was the latest. The rest of the headlines about Wayne either involved his corporations or his playboy antics. However, Albus' brief encounter with the man gave him the impression that Bruce Wayne was not what the press made him to be. The man was unlike any muggle Albus had encountered; the fact that he was at the gates of the school, was enough to prove that. What sort of impression would he leave on young Harry? Who would Harry Potter be when he arrived at his school?

In his mind, Albus had always envisioned Harry as a carbon copy of James but with more restraint, compliments of his mother. He now knew that the likelihood of Harry's behavior being a repeat of his father's was slim, for better or worse. Albus doubted that it was any secret that Lily and James were two of his all-time favorite students, as such he had always expected to have an affinity for their son. The prophecy concerning Harry only deepened his concern for the boy. Breathing deeply, the elderly wizard felt the sense of loss he always had when remembering James and Lily. The brightest and best Hogwarts had to offer, students gifted beyond belief and full of potential, taken too soon. Walking through the vast halls of the castle, he reminisced when four young mischief makers galivanted through the castle with nary a concern other than their classes and numerous detentions. Those bright days before the terrible war, before Lord Voldemort, before betrayal and death extinguished the light that had been the Potters and their friends. He had done what he thought necessary to keep their son safe, now he questioned his decision.

Albus sighed, wondering if he ought to send Hagrid to the Wayne's home and explain things to Harry as he had intended to do with the Dursleys, or if that would be detrimental to his cause. Wayne obviously had some knowledge of the magical world, to what extent that was, the headmaster was clueless. One thing Dumbledore was sure of: he needed to meet Bruce Wayne again.

Barbra sat down exhausted in the Batcave. This assignment from Batman was proving to be more difficult than she had thought. It was not just an annalist task, reading through scores of newspaper and magazine articles hoping to find one piece of useful information. Rather, this was a 'boots on the ground' investigation. The so-called _Statute of Magical Secrecy_ was proving to be effective as even with all of Batman's resources at her disposal, she struggled to get her hands on any magical media. Zatanna helped in some regards, she gave a name of a contact in New York: some magical librarian who may have some old British news sources archived. The issue was that Batman had made it clear that any and all direct dealings with wizards and witches would be orchestrated by him, thus she was now waiting for him to make the arrangements for her to be able to continue her investigation for him.

"Hey, Babe," Dick said as he slid next to her.

"Hi, Dick."

"Any progress?" he asked sliding his arm around the back of her seat.

"Not since yesterday," she deadpanned.

Dick looked at her with a slight concern, "how about we get Chinese food before patrol, and get your mind off things for a bit?"

Barbra smiled and slid her red locks behind her ear, "okay."

"Great! Go get freshened up, if you'd like, and we'll go."

"Okay," Barbra stood quickly from her chair, leaned down and kissed Dick chastely, and made her way up the stairs to the manor. Stepping from the secret passage into Bruce's study, she sighed lightheartedly, it had been too long since she and Dick had gone on a date together, and this evening could not have come at a better time for her.

Harry walked towards his room from his excursion to the kitchen. Alfred always kept the cookie jar well stocked and the ones on top, oatmeal and butterscotch chips, were still fresh when the young wizard reached in and grabbed a couple. These were Tim's favorite, which made Harry wonder if the older boy was alright. Alfred always seemed to know when one of the family was having a tough time and managed to bake their favorite cookies for them. It was one of the many things about the old man that endeared him to Harry. As he made his way up the stairs, Harry noticed Barbra step lightly into Bruce's study. Harry stopped in his tracks. How and when did Barbra get here? He had been at home all day; Harry was sure he would have heard her come in. More importantly than how she got to the manor was where she went; no one ever went into Bruce's study without him asking them to. Harry never questioned it, and to his knowledge no one ever challenged that rule. Bruce was still at Wayne Tower; so, what was Barbra doing in there?

Harry tip-toed after the redheaded girl. Pausing outside of the study's door, the young boy felt his heart beating rapidly in his chest as he tried to calm his excitement. Turning the knob, he heard the latch release and the door pushed inward a crack. Inhaling deeply, Harry peaked through the crack to spy on Barbra, but could not see anything. Mustering his courage, Harry opened the door wider and poked his head further into the room. Nothing. The study was as empty as Harry would have expected it to be if he had not just witnessed Barbra Gordan walking into it. Where was she? Harry walked into the room looking for any hiding places, but none were to be found, a quick glance around was enough to tell Harry that he was alone in the room. Where was Barbra?

"There has to be a secret passageway here," he said to himself. "All the mansions in movies have them, maybe this one does too."

Feeling around the wall, he tried to find something that might signify a hidden door. He tired several books on the shelves, scoured Bruce's desk for a switch, and found nothing. Harry grew more anxious as the secret eluded him. There was no way he simply imagined Barbra sneaking into the study. She was there, somewhere. Harry tried all the drawers of the cabinets with no success. Frustration boiled within him as he tried the door to the Grandfather clock. The door did not open, despite how hard Harry tried. He kicked the clock in anger and heard a hollow sounding "thunk."

Harry's eyes widened and he renewed his search around the antique clock.

"There!" He exclaimed as he found a hidden switch on the frame. Triggering the switch, Harry pushed the clock aside, exposing a dark tunnel and staircase leading downward. Taking a deep breath, Harry plunged into the darkness and descended into the abyss. Carefully taking each step deeper into the damp dark beneath the mansion, Harry listened to the sounds of the chasm. After what felt like hours, Harry saw a literal light at the end of the tunnel. His steps quickened as he neared the light, and soon found himself standing at the end of the stairway and the display before him took his breath away. There in the faint light was what could only be described as a secret lair. A giant computer loomed at the back of the cave. A long driveway led away into the darkness. At the far end of the complex looked to be a training ring and entrances to locker-rooms.

Harry gazed around him in wonder, trying to comprehend what it was he saw.

"Wow!" his voiced echoed through the cave calling back to him. Harry wondered deeper into the complex looking at the display cases. His eyes traveled to the ones holding manikins in costumes, and he gasped. There before him scowling down at him was The Batman's cowl. Next to Batman's were what could only be Robin's costume. Harry noticed that this one on display looked older and worn but was probably too small to even fit him.

"Robin's even younger than me," Harry gasped, "or was at least."

His hand reached out towards the glass case his fingers were just about to push on the pane when he felt firm a hand griping his shoulder. Turning suddenly in a panic, Harry looked up to see the stern, frowning face of his guardian, Bruce Wayne.


End file.
